“Now close your eyes,” Cam said. “Let me show you how it really feels to dance.”
Lilith closed her eyes and let Cam lead her, their footwork becoming more and more intricate as the song progressed. She’d had no idea dancing could feel so effortless. His hands grasped her waist and lifted her until she could have sworn that his feet had come off the ground, too; that they were floating up above the creek, above the trees, above the burning hillside, into the dense tangle of stars, about to kiss the moon.
“Can I open my eyes?” she asked.
“Not yet,” Cam said.
Then he kissed her deeply, his mouth firm and warm on hers—and Lilith kissed him back. A warm tingle spread through her as Cam pulled her closer, kissed her harder. She’d never done this before. Not even close.
His lips seemed made for hers. Why had it taken them so long to get here? They could have been kissing just like this all along. They should stay kissing, just like this, until—
“Lilith,” he whispered as their lips parted. “Lilith, Lilith, Lilith.”
“Cam,” she replied. She felt light-headed. A cool breeze whipped around them, tossing her hair, and before she knew it Lilith felt the ground beneath her feet.
“Now you can open your eyes,” he said, and she did. Up close, Cam’s were flecked with gold and ringed by an even deeper green. She couldn’t stop staring at them.
“Was that dancing?” she asked breathlessly. “Or flying?”
Cam wrapped both arms around her waist. “When it’s done right,” he said, touching his forehead against hers, “there isn’t any difference.”
Four Hours
Cam climbed out of the backseat of the old stretch limousine Roland had mysteriously scrounged up for the evening. He mounted the concrete steps to Lilith’s front door and listened to the locusts zap against the porch light. His heart drummed as he reached to ring her bell.
Self-doubt had never been Cam’s style. It clashed with his leather jacket, his original Levi’s, his cool green eyes. But now, as the sun sulked behind the burning hills and a cold wind claimed the streets, he wondered: Had he done enough?
A few band practices. A few arguments. One exquisite kiss. To Cam, every moment had brimmed with passion. But would Lilith recognize it as love?
Because if she didn’t…
She would. She had to. Tonight.
Arriane flung open the door, fists on her hips, her fine eyebrows arched. “She’s ready!” she sang. “Her updo will be the stuff of legend, but I’m most pleased with my alterations to her dress. Hey, they don’t call me Arriane Alter for nothin’.” She looked over her shoulder. “Bruce, bring out the babe.”
A moment later, Lilith’s brother rounded the hallway corner wearing his dinosaur-print pajamas. On his arm was Lilith, all dressed up. Cam held his breath as she walked toward him with slow, measured steps, meeting his eyes the whole time. That dress, and the dreamy look in her eyes, took him right back to the wedding they’d never had.
She was luminous. Her red hair had been braided a dozen ways, all swirled together in a high shaggy twist. Her eyelids were shimmering green, her lips crimson and matte. She wore black vintage ankle-high motorcycle boots. She was lethal.
She let go of Bruce’s hand and spun in a slow, sexy circle. “How do I look?”
When she stopped in front of him, Cam took her hands. She had the softest skin he’d ever known. “You look so good, it ought to be illegal.”
“No costume for you?” Lilith asked, smoothing the lapel of Cam’s leather jacket. “Jean’s going to be pissed, but I think you look smokin’.”
“Smokin’?” he laughed. When Lilith looked at him that way, Cam could forget that his muscles had lost their definition, that his skin was paper-thin, that his hair was falling out and his hooves made it hard for him to walk. Lilith saw him differently than the rest of her world did, because she cared for him, and hers was the only opinion that mattered.
“Cam, do you mind if…,” Lilith said nervously. “Would it be okay if I properly introduced you to my mom? She’s kind of old-fashioned, and it would mean a lot—”
“No problem. Moms love me,” Cam lied. Mothers of teenage girls could usually smell the bad boy in Cam right away. But for Lilith, he would do anything.
“Mom?” Lilith called, and a moment later her mother appeared in the hall. She wore a pink terry-cloth bathrobe that was stained and worn thin. Her hair was pulled back messily with a plastic clip. She touched it fretfully, teasing out a little strand.
“Mrs. Foscor.” Cam extended his hand. “I’m Cameron Briel. We met once before, when you were taking Bruce to the hospital, but I’m glad to see you again. I want to thank you.”
“For what?” Lilith’s mother asked.
“For raising a remarkable daughter,” he said.
“Anything you like in her is probably just her rebelling against me,” her mother said, and then, to Cam’s amazement, she laughed. “She does look beautiful, though, doesn’t she?”